And I sit bemused and in bereft

 

I do not want to speak today the wound sits large, a shadow from the left. It moves within the eye. Contact. An absent worded death layering through deceit. His sharp slap of cheek. The meet of realisation. This boy gendered youth, all give and take and expectation. Such a hard wall, such a crossed line. I sit in absence reacting out of time. The push of wired gall, the boy has done it all.. The smashing of the times. MB